Trent and I have been so so busy lately with a project that is very near to my heart. I have been wanting to post about it from day one... but collecting my thoughts to put down was a bit difficult when we are literally burning the candle at both ends to make this project come to fruition and also because I am very connected. So it tends to have been a bit emotional at times.
So let me start in 1952....
In a quiet little town off the banks of the Snake River, along the northern end of the
fertile Snake River Valley sits the City of
Blackfoot “The Potato Capital of the World.”
Home to none other than my Grandpa himself, Clohecy Reynolds and his soon to be bride, Lola Tea.
The first home in a now full subdivision and an ever-changing landscape. The Reynolds happily lived in the home for 66 years. The only home they have ever known. They raised three beautiful little girls to adulthood. The walls watched as Lola stayed home with her children and watched 13 others to help with the income. She also supplemented the income by dipping chocolates- a talent that she would share with others long into her life.
Clohecy worked for Bingham Co-op.
If walls could talk...
This home has always been filled with love. My grandma, now 95 years old, has finally had her final chapter in this much loved home. It has seen her through some of the hardest moments of her life- losing her husband and a daughter. It has given her some of her greatest memories- raising her children, watching them rollerskate in an unfinished basement, listening to the laughing and playing of the neighborhood children she tended, watching her daughters be picked up for dances and helping them do their hair and chastising them when their skirts were too short, teaching her grandchildren how to play badminton and kick the can. Standing on the front steps to bang pots and pans at midnight to celebrate the New Year, building forts out of sheets on the clothes lines... and sitting in her rocking chair listening to the comforting sound of the grandfather clock chime on the hour while watching Days of Our Lives and Lawrence Welk.
Grandma now lives with my sister wondering when the book will write it's quiet ending.
So here... in 2018... 66 years after my Grandfather first opened the door of the home at 290 Horrocks Drive in tiny little Blackfoot Idaho, I stood at the door with the key in my hand.
TO BE CONTINUED...
